


Once you cross the line, will you be satisfied?

by MeanderingMotivation



Series: I am an animal with you [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Claude von Riegan is a Little Shit, Developing Relationship, Dom/sub Undertones, Fluff and Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Safe Sane and Consensual, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:29:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25048447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeanderingMotivation/pseuds/MeanderingMotivation
Summary: A half-serious threat from Dimitri has Claude unable to stave off an unending sense of curiosity.ORDimitri and Claude stumble through the beginnings of a very intriguing relationship.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Series: I am an animal with you [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1814122
Comments: 8
Kudos: 72





	Once you cross the line, will you be satisfied?

**Author's Note:**

> Truthfully I’ve had this written up for a while (like, since I finished my first playthrough on Golden Deer route), but it’s a little out of my comfort zone. I don’t usually write things of this nature, and I felt a little weird publishing it! Still, it was irritating me sitting unpublished, and I thought maybe someone would like it…
> 
> If this sort of fic, with this kind of rare pairing appeals to you, I do hope you find some form of enjoyment in this 😊

* * *

It’s all a bit of fun, really.

Claude had been experimenting with potion-making again, and on the behest of his own mischief-making spirit (and egged on by a giggly Hilda, who may or may not have been drinking a flask of something from the monastery’s wine cellar) he had decided, amusedly, to try using it on ~~some poor, unsuspecting victim~~ another person, to test its potency.

The members of his own house were out, for obvious reasons. He needed them to have faith in him, and tricking them into ingesting a strange potion would shake their confidence, even if he was _incredibly_ tempted to use it on Lorenz…

He couldn’t use it on the professor, either. They were too clever to fall for it, and, _technically_ , they held authority over Claude. He didn’t fancy a scolding. ~~~~

Consequentially, he ended up picking Dimitri.

If you were to ask Claude for his reasoning, all he would admit (outright) was that he’d found the idea funny, and that he’d wanted to ruffle the prince’s feathers a little, as comrades and rivals did to one another. Simple. Predictable. Easy to process (and subsequentially) disapprove of. Nobody would bat an eyelid at the explanation.

In reality though, Claude’s reasoning went a little deeper. Like the majority of his schemes, this one _did_ have a hidden agenda, one he wouldn’t admit to, not for fear of his life or anything else so severe, but because….

It made him feel a little sheepish.

Playing such a childish, practical joke on Dimitri appealed to Claude, _not_ because they were in competition, or he wanted to show him up, but rather, because, _embarrassingly…_

He wanted the prince’s undivided attention. It wasn’t something he was blessed with often, and Claude had come to covet those small moments, where Dimitri would focus on him, and not on their lessons, another classmate, or one of the books in the library. It was a rare…pleasure.

And this potion was a sure way to harness Dimitri’s attention. Negative, or otherwise, in Claude’s mind, it was worth it. He certainly needed a break from all of the work he’d been doing in the library. His eyes were beginning to feel like sandpaper, and his spirits were a little low.

Despite his cheerful façade, he was still struggling a little to fit in with the people here. He wasn’t being stoned, or exiled, but…

Claude wanted that _ease._ The same ease he saw most of the other students exhibit.

Oddly enough, he didn’t think Dimitri truly felt it either.

* * *

Perhaps Claude chooses a bad day to needle the prince of Faerghus.

The man himself comes slumping into the dining hall rather late for dinner, when most of the good food has already been devoured (seconds, mostly by Raphael). There’s some kind of event happening tonight though, church related, Claude believes, so the area is still bustling, students mingling together, all chatting happily and enjoying themselves.

So why does Dimitri appear as if he’s awaiting execution at the gallows?

Sure, he _looks_ as immaculate as ever (outside of the tired bags under his eyes) but his expression is completely devoid of emotion, although his eyes sparkle with something vaguely resembling irritation.

A quarrel, perhaps? Or maybe he’s not a fan of the sweet food that is being served…

Either way, Claude pours the vial of his ~~precious~~ prototype into a bowl of onion gratin soup hastily prepared (sweets festival or otherwise, a prince was a prince, and Dimitri never needed to ask to have one of his favourite foods made), taking advantage of the server’s flustered demeanour to sneak in and out of the kitchen. He’s well aware how this might look to an outsider.

Foreign looking man, tipping some unknown substance into a prince’s meal…

Claude’s behaviour practically _screams_ assassination attempt, but he’s always believed that life is boring without a little risk, so why not take his chance? Who knows, with the hectic schedule they both keep, they might not dine in the same vicinity as one another for some time.

He swaggers back on out into the general humdrum of the dining hall, smiling at the calls and waved hands of some of his Golden Deer fellows. Usually, he’d sit with them, but today Byleth has joined them, and Claude is…wary of their ability to sniff out his intentions. They’d probably take one look at Claude and know he’d been up to something untoward.

Besides, he wants a front-row seat for the action. If he’d composed the potion correctly, Dimitri would start to feel the effects within a few minutes of consuming it. Considering how quickly the man tended to scoff down his food (Claude had never seen someone make pigging out look so polite before, it must have been a kingdom thing) it wouldn’t take long…

He sidles up alongside Ashe, and shoots him a grin he knows will be charming enough to will away any of the boy’s self-doubt. “Hey, Ashe. You like sweets, right?”

“Oh, yes,” Bless him, he gets flustered so easily, his hand quivers over his peach sorbet, “They _are_ my favourite. Um, do you, like them, S- _Claude.”_

Claude’s so used to being called nasty names, that he still balks whenever someone addresses him formally, or, in Ashe’s case, _nearly_ addresses him formally. “More of a meat guy, but I can appreciate some good sweets.”

Ashe gives a smile, and resumes eating his dessert. Claude can feel the eyes of Blue Lion students on him, accusatory and a little exasperated. Unlike the Golden Deer, they aren’t usually willing to branch out. Felix, particularly, is glaring at him like he personally spat in his goblet…

Dedue’s eyes are also heavy, from where he sits at Dimitri’s side.

The man, in Claude’s opinion, is _ridiculously_ overprotective. He hulks after Dimitri like he’s his shadow, and his constant deference is, _also_ in Claude’s opinion a little unsettling. Like the man doesn’t consider himself an individual outside of being a vassal.

Claude couldn’t **_pay_** Hilda to follow him around like that. Nor could he expect such blind obedience. He wouldn’t want it, really, and he was sure _Dimitri_ didn’t want it either…

It didn’t take a genius to notice how uncomfortable the prince was with formality when it came from his closest allies. It mustn’t have been nice, to constantly have your status glaring you in the face.

Claude may have known a little something about that himself, although _prince_ was never something he’d been called. His titles have always been less…flattering.

“What are you up to, Claude?” Ingrid sighs. She has a collection of plates before her, and a smattering of crumbs around her lips.

Never one to turn down a good meal, that girl.

“Up to?” Claude blinks, innocently, helping himself to a pastry from her rapidly depleting plate. He ignores her offended yelp, biting into the flaky dough. He chews, and hums appreciatively. “Strawberry jam.”

“Of all the-” Ingrid is very definitely appalled, which is usually her demeanour around Claude regardless. _Everything_ he does seems to offend her delicate sensibilities. “Claude! Have you no sense of decency? _Stealing_ from my plate like some kind of beggar.”

Stifled, and a little stuck-up, but Claude still finds her enjoyable. Her sense of chivalry and skill with a lance are rather admirable, and she’s fun to tease.

“Haven’t you had enough?” Sylvain’s eyes are twinkling with amusement. “If you eat anymore, we’ll have to roll you out of here, which won’t be very ladylike.”

“As if _you’re_ the authority on manners-“

Claude watches as the pair dissolve into a bickering match, stifling a chortle when Felix slaps his hands over his ears with a dramatic huff. He was fond of his Golden Deer, but the Blue Lions were very likeable as well, in their own ways.

“You didn’t answer her question,” Dedue says, when Claude continues munching, keeping an eye on Dimitri, who had yet to notice his presence. The prince was staring glassy-eyed at his soup. “Why are you here, Claude?”

“Sheesh. A guy can’t socialise without being interrogated?” Claude is talented at deflection. “I just wanted to branch out. Get to know some different people. I _am_ going to be the head of the Alliance one day, after all.”

“Of course you’re welcome to sit with us.” Mercedes said, sweet voice assuring.

“Thank you.” Claude smiles back. “I appreciate your hospitality.”

“Highness, your soup will cool.” Dedue cautions the prince, who looks up sharply, eyes clearing of the fog that had drifted over them at the address. He peers around the table, and visibly starts upon seeing Claude, like he was some kind of jack-in-a-box that had sprung up.

Claude holds back a laugh, but his lips twitch from the effort.

“Claude!” He says, taken-aback. “What are you doing here?”

“You _just_ noticed?” Claude makes a show of pretending he hadn’t been observing Dimitri. “Best keep your wits about you, your princliness, you never know when-“ His words die in his mouth, suddenly, _someone might try and assassinate you,_ considering Dimitri’s past, it wouldn’t be appropriate. “-a handsome rogue like me might come along and steal your soup!” A quick recovery, with Dimitri none the wiser. The prince even pulls his soup closer, territorially, as if Claude might lunge across the table and stick his face in it. It’s actually a good thing to say, as it prompts Dimitri into lifting a spoon, and dipping it in the by now lukewarm soup.

“You’re here for my soup? Really Claude?” Dimitri is unconvinced, but not unimpressed. He’s become used to Claude’s antics remarkably quickly. “We both know you have some other ulterior motive. Should we discuss it later, privately?”

_Privately._ The invitation makes Claude’s heart thud faster in his chest. He’s agreeing before his brain can even formulate a measured response. “Yes. I mean, I’d like that. Just the two of us.”

_Shit. That sounded embarrassing. And glaringly obvious._

“Just the two of us.” Dimitri repeated, with a small smile of his own. He lifted a spoonful to his mouth.

Claude, so focused on rejoicing about his little excursion with Dimitri later (should he run to the kitchen and pack a few snacks, or borrow a teapot? He knew what Dimitri’s favourite tea was…) momentarily forgot about his plan. If he’d known that sitting with Dimitri was all he’d need to do to get his attention, he never would have gone through the effort of-

“PPPFFTHHH!”

Claude jumped at the grotesque sound, suddenly feeling the empty bottle in his trousers pack, and, startlingly…

_I forgot to mix the sweetener in. There’s no way he won’t realise his food has been tampered with._

The little packet is still tucked away in his desk, hidden underneath some books away from prying ~~Byleth’s~~ eyes. He’d known that the taste of the potion was acidic, and had needed adjusting in regards to flavour…

He’d been so caught up in enacting his plan, he’d made a silly error. A childish error. Claude did not often make these sorts of errors, and he’s so hideously embarrassed with himself that he nearly stands and leaves the dining hall entirely, before realising how incriminating that will look. If he just stays and appears bemused like everyone else, Dimitri will probably just attribute the flavour to a bad batch of onions or something-

“Your Highness!” Dedue’s alarmed exclamation garners a lot of attention, and Claude resists the urge to shrink in his seat when he sees, in his peripheral vision, Byleth turning to stare at him knowingly. How did Teach _know_ everything? Was he _that_ predictable?

Dimitri splutters, the remains of the soup he had not just ejected, (rather hilariously under normal circumstances) violently from his mouth, dripping from his lips. It’s a rather undignified look, and he hastily procures a handkerchief, patting away the liquid. “I’m fine-“

“Was it poison?” Ingrid asked, triggering a chain reaction of horror and anxiety.

Dedue stands up threateningly. Mercedes gasps. Ashe drops his spoon. Annette, who had been singing to herself under her breath up until this point, said, “Should I go get Professor Manuela?”

“Let him choke.” Felix acts unconcerned, but his posture has stiffened. “Serves him right for letting himself be poisoned.”

“Felix, come on,” Sylvain shakes his head. “Shit, I’ll go get Seteth-“

It’s all spiralling entirely out of control, something else Claude hadn’t anticipated.

Because he’d been so focused on getting Dimitri’s attention, that he’d neglected to think about the consequences.

_Stupid._

Fortunately (or unfortunately, in Claude’s case) Dimitri knows enough about assassination attempts to realise he hasn’t been poisoned by anything malicious. If he’d truly ingested something toxic, it would have been odourless, with no flavour. Anyone who would risk poisoning him in the monastery wouldn’t do the job half-heartedly. Furthermore, it’s just too convenient that Claude is sitting nearby, eyes a little too wide and guilty to prove he’s innocent.

Now, Dimitri doesn’t want to shame Claude. He knows Dedue’s fussing has garnered a lot of attention, and Claude would likely be in trouble for playing such an ill-timed prank. Battle rivals or otherwise, Dimitri is actually rather fond of Claude, and doesn’t want to see him receive a tongue-lashing from Seteth or Rhea. Even though the prank was imbecilic, and annoying, he’d find some other way to deal with it, without exposing Claude’s-

But then he sees how soup has splattered all over Mercedes, and the fear on her, and all of his friend’s, faces. He’s also acutely aware of how foolish he must have looked, spitting out soup in such an unmannerly fashion. Then there’s the fact that a few people (who clearly have realised Dimitri hasn’t been poisoned) have started to giggle…

He means to say, (“Apologies. Something was caught in my throat. Forgive the fuss.”)

Instead, what comes out, filled with anger he doesn’t often like to show- “Claude! Empty your pockets!”

The bark startles Claude, and he stiffens in his chair. “Excuse me?” His voice is unruffled, but his eyes are still a little wider than usual. “Are you accusing me of poisoning you?” It’s phrased like a joke, but Dimitri doesn’t humour him.

“You tried to use one of your mild-stomach upset potions on me, didn’t you!?” Stood up from their chair, Dimitri can distantly see Byleth slapping their palm to their forehead. “Of all the irresponsible, _juvenile_ things to do-“

“Is everything alright here, gentleman?” Seteth has finally made his way over, brows raised as he looks between the pair. “Shall I seek an audience with the archbishop to resolve this dispute?”

“No,” Dimitri manages to calm down enough to say, through gritted teeth. “That will not be necessary. I will deal with this myself.”

“Very well, then I urge you to keep the volume down.”

The two young men nod, and Seteth rounds on his heel, murmuring underneath his breath.

Claude looks a little relieved, and that’s _almost_ enough to send Dimitri into another rage-

Instead, one last shout slips from his mouth, unbidden.

“ _Honestly,_ Claude! You behave so childish, I have half a mind to take you over my knee and give you a good smacking!”

Silence. Complete and utter silence.

But then, the most interesting thing happens.

Claude, underneath that lovely tanned skin of his, **_burns red_** _._ His flesh turns crimson, all the way up to the tips of his pierced ear. His mouth falls open, inelegantly, and it’s astounding that no words come out.

Despite the potion fiasco, Dimitri takes a savage enjoyment in it. Claude is so often making _him_ feel frazzled, it’s refreshing to return the favour, even in these circumstances.

Alas, Hilda comes to the rescue, pink hair swinging at her hip as she marches over, accompanied by Leonie, who’s lips are in a thin line. “Hello,” Hilda practically chirps, although Dimitri sees something hard glimmer in her eyes. “Sorry to interrupt, but we’re going to need to take him. Urgent Golden Deer business.”

Her laidback demeanour is enough to relax the tense atmosphere, and the spectators return to their own business, sad to see the entertainment fade. That, and Leonie’s got one hell of a glare.

“No way!” Ingrid snapped. “He tried to _feed_ Dimitri some unholy concoction-“

“ANYWAY,” Hilda flips her hair, completely ignoring the fuming female. “Come on, Claude. Don’t want to keep Lorenz waiting.”

Grateful for the out, Claude stands, eagerly walking to her side. “It was fun dining with you.” The words fall out awkwardly.

“Apologise.” Dimitri commands. “There’s a difference between harmless mischief and trouble, Claude. You need to own up to your mistakes.”

Claude knows he’s right. “Nope.” He pops the ‘P’ insolently, and strides away, Hilda and Leonie flanking his sides. 

It isn’t like doesn’t _know_ how to swallow his pride. Normally, he would have apologised immediately. His plan had been childish, and ill-prepared, but…

The sternness in Dimitri’s voice, it had made something stir in Claude.

It wasn’t quite arousal (as a young man, Claude was already intimately familiar with that) but rather… _intrigue_. He wanted to see what Dimitri would do, if he’d actually follow through with that impulsive threat. He was curious, and Claude’s curiosity had often gotten the better of him...

The mental image of him hauled over Dimitri’s knee isn’t as horrifying as it should be, and that’s a little scary, but also…appealing.

Goddess save him, Claude _wanted_ to be spanked.

And unlike the more virtuous Blue Lions, who would likely push down their shame and never _dare_ act upon their desires (well, perhaps not Sylvain or Felix, Claude had yet to figure _them_ out fully) Claude is _notoriously_ bad at letting matters like these rest. It isn’t in his nature, to not explore the possibility. Besides, if he didn’t indulge his own sense of intrigue, it would merely crop up again and again, at inconvenient times.

“Wow Claude. You really pissed His Highness off. Never seen his face look so vicious before.”

_What would his face look like, if he actually pulled me over his knee? Stern? Resigned? Disappointed? Maybe even…no, he wouldn’t **like** it, surely…_

Like now.

Hilda nudges him for his distraction, and Claude gives a laugh, hopes nobody can detect the slight inch of hysteria in it, as he answers Leonie. “I didn’t quite notice…”

“It was actually a little frightening.” Hilda appeared pensive. “I’ve never seen his expression shift like that before. It was like looking at a new Dimitri. Maybe some of what Felix speaks about is true…”

It’s sheer speculation. Not safe to speak of in the dining hall, even with their voices lowered.

“Raphael better not have eaten my food…” Clearly Leonie is of the same mind as Claude, and she changes the topic rapidly. “I saw him eyeing it off before we had to rescue this idiot here…”

“Ouch.” Claude pouted, a hand over his chest. “You wound me, Leonie.”

“At least she’s not _spanking_ you.” Hilda teased.

“Heh. I’d actually _pay_ to see Dimitri spank Claude.” Leonie said. “It’s about time he gets his comeuppance for all of those stupid pranks.”

Over the timespan of the next couple of hours, Claude would hear one adjective used to describe him. He heard it from his fellows in Golden Deer, as well as whispers from other students and staff.

Brat.

Usually, Claude would be mortified to be described so childishly. It wasn’t fitting for someone in his position, and he’d worked hard to attain a solid reputation in this country. And yet…

If playing the role of ‘brat’ (in healthy moderation, of course) was enough to get Dimitri’s undivided attention, Claude would have to take on the role a little more often.

After all, he _did_ want that ‘smacking’ Dimitri had mentioned.

* * *

It doesn’t take much to get it, really.

A few more (admittedly tamer) well-timed pranks in Dimitri’s vicinity, and an overall cocky demeanour whenever he sees the prince. He’s a bit more mouthy, a little more mischievous, and, truthfully, he doesn’t think Dimitri minds it all that much. After all, the prince was always endeavouring to be treated like a normal student. Claude’s teasing was like a balm to him.

They run into one another frequently in the library, but Claude respects the quiet sanctity of the place far too much to cause trouble there, so he settles for a few teasing remarks here and there, purring out foolish nicknames to fluster the prince.

He wants to make Dimitri take him in hand, but he also isn’t willing to give up their normal dynamic, in order to make that happen. If greed is a sin, Claude is rife with it, and it’s a part of his personality he’s unabashed about. After all, if he wasn’t so greedy, he wouldn’t have such conviction to change the world. He didn’t want to just improve the relations between Almyra and Fodlan, he wanted to make things better for _everyone._ Every country, every kingdom, every town or territory. He wouldn’t rest until he made that goal a reality.

But he could afford a little distraction, now and then, if only to spice things up. As much as he liked Fodlan, it was a little _bland._ In both food, and entertainment. As horribly as he’d been treated in Almyra by some people, he’d never once been _bored._

It all comes down to that insatiable curiosity of his, and his _‘what’s life without a little risk’_ sort of mantra.

“The archbishop herself is giving a lecture on the Church of Seiros tomorrow.” Dimitri informs Claude, breaking their mutual silence.

The pair had been sharing a table, absorbed in their own respective research. The prince looks a little less troubled tonight, which Claude is glad for. Whenever Dimitri frowns, he has the near irresistible urge to reach over and smooth his face with his own hands. He’s warned him about getting wrinkles before, but Dimitri had scoffed at such vanity.

“That sounds ominous,” Claude looked up from the text he had been skimming, putting down the quill he had been using to jot down notes. He should have been in bed hours ago, and he barely manages to hold back a yawn “and vague.”

Dimitri nodded in agreement. “I saw the announcement pinned in the Knights Hall. Attendance is mandatory for all students. I’m baffled as to why she feels the need to hold such a lecture. As students at the monastery, we all have _at least_ a rudimentary knowledge of the church and its history, and as citizens of Fodlan, it seems entirely impossible for those of us here _not_ to know the customs and etiquette associated with the church. If we weren’t knowledgeable prior to enrolment, we certainly are _now_. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Rhea’s intentions, are (infuriatingly) as mysterious as ever. Claude always struggled to pin her down. She seemed so virtuous and sweet, but he knew from his own research that she wasn’t wholly the benevolent ruler she appeared as to her devout followers. So what motive could she have for delivering a lecture on a topic they were already well-versed in?

“Maybe it’s a reminder,” Claude shrugged. It was the best he could come up with without overthinking it. “You know, to _behave._ Can’t have the unruly students damaging the reputation of the monastery, and Ingrid doesn’t really have time to lecture _everyone_ …”

“That could be one explanation,” Dimitri said, electing to ignore Claude’s barb over Ingrid. As much as he appreciated the girl as his friend and ally, she could be a bit of a…’stick in the mud’, as Sylvain would say. “But I doubt Rhea has taken time out of her busy schedule solely to reprimand us. She must have more than one motive…”

“Doubtlessly so. She’s a tricky one, the archbishop.”

“Quiet!” Dimitri hissed, furtively. He glanced around in paranoia, despite the late hour. Even the old librarian had retired by now, and they were completely alone. “Claude, you mustn’t speak so blatantly like that. You could be accused of heresy.”

“It’s just you and I here,” Claude reminded. “Or should I be scared _you’ll_ report me, your princelienss?”

“Of course not! I would never do something so deplorable. I just sometimes forget, what with your obvious background-“

_“Obvious background?”_ Claude repeated, with a smirk. “Why Dimitri, are you _implying_ I’m not an upstanding citizen of Fodlan?” It isn’t really safe, to speak like this. The trust he had won through hard work could be jeopardised if his background was discovered, and yet…

He felt comfortable with Dimitri. He doubted he’d expose him. 

Besides, it was kind of obvious, really. There was only one other person who resembled him here, and it was that Cyril kid who constantly blabbered on about being ‘rescued’ from his Almyran beginnings. Claude would eat his own earring if Dimitri hadn’t figured him out by now.

“Citizen of Fodlan, yes, upstanding, no. Truthfully Claude…” Dimitri regarded him with open eyes, curious and a little befuddled. “I don’t know what to make of you.”

Claude didn’t really know what to _make_ of that statement, but before he could say another word, Dimitri was continuing.

“One minute you’re sharp as a tack, and then the next you’re behaving like a bratty child. You interest and irk me in equal measures, and, well…”

“Well?” Claude prompted, leaning a little closer. Dimitri’s cheeks had turned a little pink, and it gave him a rosy hue in the candlelight. He looked innocent.

Dimitri cleared his throat, flushing further at their proximity. For a moment, his eyes darted to Claude’s lips, before he stood abruptly, sweeping his notes into his arms. He kept his eyes averted from Claude, voice a little tight. “Well, I think I should call it a night. It isn’t very princely to nod off during class, and I don’t want anyone fussing over me. I nearly died of embarrassment the last time Dedue suggested I take a _nap,_ like a toddler…”

“Hey, don’t criticise naps,” It takes a moment for Claude to recover from Dimitri’s sudden absence (and his own disappointment) but he keeps his tone light as he watches the man shrug back on his coat “I actually think they _improve_ productivity during the day.”

“You should do the same.” Dimitri said, disregarding Claude’s comment. “Lady Catherine will be most displeased if she catches you drowsy at the lecture.”

“Aw, are you worried about me? That’s cute.”

Dimitri’s eyebrow twitched, his abashment fading away. “ _You_ should be worried for you, Claude.” he said, severely. “If you take it upon yourself to cause mayhem at any time tomorrow, you’ll be sitting in that lecture on a sore bottom. I meant what I said last moon.”

This is the first time Dimitri has mentioned _that_ particular exchange, and Claude’s heart quickens in his chest. His own cheeks have turned red, much the way Dimitri’s had moments earlier, and the intrigue is back in full-force, _daring_ him. “You really think you’re strong enough?” It’s not quite a goad, but it’s close. “Wow. His Highness sure is cocky.”

Dimitri huffs an exasperated sigh, bids him goodbye, and leaves Claude to his thoughts.

If his mind wasn’t made up before, it certainly was now.

All he needed to do was find a way to wind the prince up enough to act on his word…

No, it doesn’t take much in the end. The final straw is when Claude, knowingly (and with Dimitri within clear hearing distance) mentions, off-handedly, to Raphael, about selling some of his ‘stomach upset potion’ to those wishing to forego Rhea’s pious presentation.

Raphael is in the process of asking “Will that spoil my appetite for dinner tonight?” when Dimitri approaches, grasping Claude by the upper arm and hauling him to his side. The aggressive action has Raphael and Ignatz (who’d been doing his best to ignore the exchange entirely) stiffening up, but Claude waves a hand dismissively, chuckling a little awkwardly. Dimitri moved _fast._

“Hey there Your Highness. Need something?”

Dimitri angles him an unimpressed look, which practically screeches, _you know why I’m here, you little pest,_ but doesn’t shame Claude by voicing it. He doesn’t want the other male to lose face with his supporters. “As a matter of fact, I require your counsel on a particular matter.”

“If it’s Alliance related, Lorenz would be happy to-“

Dimitri tightens his grip a little, and Claude represses a shiver at the force. Never let it be said that Dimitri had a gentle hand, he’d heard rumours that the man couldn’t even handle _scissors_ without breaking them.

He wondered how merciful that hand would be, when the time came.

“I guess I can snag something for breakfast later.” He said, genially. He sends his two friends a reassuring smile. “Sorry gentleman, but I seem to have acquired some royal attention. Can’t turn down a prince.”

“Want me to save you some food?” Single-track mind, that Raphael.

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t eat any of it.” Ignatz added.

“Nah, I’ll live. I can always pilfer something from the kitchen later if I need to.” Claude said.

“Good day.” Dimitri bode, as formal as ever, before leading ~~practically dragging~~ Claude out of the dining room, and in the direction of their dorm area. The walk there is silent and filled with tension, and more than once, Claude has to shoot other people a smile, and a wave. With how annoyed Dimitri looks, he wouldn’t be surprised if they were worried the man was about to kill him…

When they arrive in Dimitri’s room, the man turns the lock, and Claude _shivers_ at the sound. His heart races in his chest, as he wonders whether he’ll be forced to call Dimitri’s bluff, or if the man will act on his own…

The anticipation is _killing_ him, and he waits with bated breath. Only…

Only Dimitri has little to no clue of Claude’s true eagerness, and decides he wants to instigate a _chat_ instead of getting straight to business, likely due out of his considerate nature and kind personality.

Which is all well and good, but Claude doesn’t _want_ sweet Dimitri. He wants him **_stern._**

“I know we aren’t the best of friends, Claude,” Dimitri releases him, and stands arms-crossed, before the door. As if afraid Claude will make a break for it, even with the key tucked away. “And forgive me if I’m being presumptuous…but I thought we may have been something _resembling_ friends-“

“Of course we’re friends.” Claude couldn’t help but blurt, appalled at Dimitri’s assumption. “Why would you think otherwise?”

Dimitri blinks, raises an eyebrow. “I think your actions recently speak for themselves. It seems like you’ve been trying to antagonise me. Why would a friend do that?”

_Goddess, this prince is irritatingly innocent._

“Unless there’s something else,” Damn it, now Dimitri appears _concerned,_ “Your change in behaviour is worrying me, Claude. I want you to know, you can come to me with anything that is troubling you. We don’t need to let the house rivalry come between us.”

It’s a very touching statement, and under normal circumstances, Claude would have appreciated it fully. Now, though, his spiked intrigue was rapidly ebbing, and all he _really_ wanted was-

“That’s very sweet of you, Dimitri,” Claude isn’t such an asshole that he’d mock the other male for being sincere, in this circumstance. “But there is nothing so severe going on. I promise.”

Dimitri doesn’t appear convinced, but he takes Claude at face value, and continues his confused theorising. “Then why are you behaving in such an unruly manner? With the way you’ve been trying to provoke me, it’s almost like you _want_ me to-“ Dimitri stops, in sudden realisation. He looks Claude over, his gaze lingering on his pink cheeks, his slightly-lidded eyes. His impatient gaze. The prince was an intelligent man, and it seemed he knew more about _desires_ than Claude had given him credit for. “You want me to, don’t you?” His voice isn’t disgusted, merely miffed. “That’s why you’ve been behaving like a stroppy little boy, because you _want_ me to-“

“I should go.” Claude is utterly mortified, but he knows lying now will only make him appear more foolish. The best course of action was to ignore the man’s statement, and pretend this never happened. The loss of _what could have been_ would smart, but it was better than being subjected to derision or scorn. “I’m suddenly feeling rather peckish. I shouldn’t skip breakfast.“ He takes a step towards the door, but Dimitri mirrors his movement, blocking his path.

“Tell me you want me to do it.”

_“What?”_ Claude loses his composure entirely at this. His cheeks are so hot that he feels feverish, and his head _rushes._ The look on Dimitri’s face alone is enough to make his knees feel a little wobbly.

“Tell me you want me to do it.” Dimitri repeats this again, calmly. There’s no hint of a demand, not yet. “I want you to give me your consent.”

This…this was entirely unexpected. Claude hadn’t realised Dimitri would be self-aware enough to understand how these sorts of arrangements could work. He’d seemed too innocent for that.

He should laugh this off. Dimitri would let him, if he wanted. He was a decent man.

But if he denied himself this, if he left this path unexplored…

Regrets were bearable, unending curiosity was _not._

Claude would have preferred a fit of passion over such measured calculation, but he isn’t the only person in this scenario. If acting purely on emotion would cause Dimitri distress, then he would meet him in the middle. It was the least he could do, since the man was _clearly_ willing to indulge him.

Still, it was humiliating, and it took Claude a moment, to force the words past his lips. “I consent to this.” There, it was out, now they could _finally-_

“Tell me what you consent to.”

Gods, Dimitri was such a stickler. He was _really_ going to make him say it. “I consent to you…” He grimaces. _“Spanking_ me.”

“You want me to spank you?”

_For the love of-_ “Yes, Dimitri. I want you to spank me. Now can we-“

“No.”

**_What?_** Claude sends Dimitri an aghast expression, and wonders, worriedly, if the prince is becoming hysterical, for a moment later he’s laughing, face split into a grin. “Dimitri-“

“Oh, I jest, Claude! I jest! Of course I’ll give you a spanking.” Dimitri continues to chortle, even as Claude stares at him in concern. He’s never seen the prince crack a joke like this before. “Look at those doe eyes,” Dimitri goes on, once he’s composed himself. “I do apologise for scaring you so, Claude, but I felt you deserved a little retribution for all of your mischief.”

“I do _not_ have doe eyes,” Claude protested, in dismay. “And that was a really bad joke! I felt my soul leave my body for a moment.”

Dimitri merely chuckles again, and Claude would have enjoyed making the prince so amused, if he wasn’t feeling so embarrassed. “Now, don’t pout. You have no need to, when I plan on giving you what you want. Although once I’m done…you might have wished this panned out otherwise.”

The intrigue returns full-force at this, and Claude lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Still, he had to be a gentleman, and return the favour. “And you don’t mind indulging this whim of mine?” He keeps his tone deliberately light, and casual. “I didn’t think it was your scene, Your Princliness.”

“A whim is impulsive, Claude. Your entire course of action was premediated, which means you’ve wanted this for a while. Wanted me to take you over my knee, and spank you. I find this, for a lack of a better word… _adorable._ All of your little tricks, merely a ploy for my attention. Well,” his smile abruptly faded, a stern expression coming upon his face, his blue eyes steely. “Now you have it.”

“Dimitri-“

“You’ve delighted me,” Dimitri said. “And I want to give it to you. I would have left this room the moment your intentions were made clear if I was disgusted by the idea.”

Claude’s brain, which had been operating at a sluggish pace, seemingly comes back to life. He remembers Dimitri’s insistence on _telling_ him what he wanted, the way he’d seemingly ‘delighted’ in watching Claude squirm, in turning the tables-

_Oh. **Oh.**_

“How do you want to do this, Your Highness?” A smirk graces his lips, his confidence returning in increments. “On the bed? On your desk chair?”

The returning smirk on Dimitri’s face is slow, borderline beastly, and _splendorous_ to behold. It’s an expression Claude’s never seen before, one he imagines the prince endeavours to conceal. He’s marvellous like this, stripped back to his core. Claude feels _privileged,_ as well as a little unnerved.

He feels very much the unsuspecting buck, about to be devoured by a starving lion.

“So _impatient_ , Claude. Let’s not forget who’s in charge here. If I’m to punish you for your misdeeds, I will do it _my way._ Do you understand?”

_Do you understand._ One last chance for an out. One last opportunity to stop this. Whatever _this_ is. “I think I can manage that,” Claude replies, smirk widening. _“Your Highness.”_

“Dimitri.” The prince corrected immediately. “I don’t want to hear any formalities between us here. In fact, the next time you address me as His Highness, or any other ridiculous nickname, I’m going to add an extra strike to your punishment. And with how hard I can hit...you really don’t want that.”

Claude’s shiver is equal parts fear and anticipation. Fortunately, the latter trumps the former. “I understand,” he says, then tries, “Sir?” Dimitri grimaces at this, and Claude makes a mental note _no,_ and amends “Just Dimitri then. I understand.”

“Good.” Dimitri makes a great display of pulling out his desk chair, removing his coat, and rolling up the sleeves of his blouse. He reveals an expanse of pale, muscled flesh, and Claude feels a little more _heat_ enter their play, nudging in comfortably between the general intrigue and fascination. He sits down squarely, leaning back in a borderline _lazy_ pose, although his eyes haven’t lost their intensity. “Now strip.”

_Wait, what?_ Claude had expected the man to beckon him closer, to pull down his slacks and undergarments, and spank him immediately. None of this long, drawn-out nonsense. This…this made him a little jittery. Uncomfortable, even. Was that the purpose?

“You don’t need to do it slowly,” Dimitri continues, upon seeing Claude’s reluctance. “But I want you to do it yourself, this time at least. I want to see your face as you willingly submit to me. This…this is what I want.”

_What he wants, huh. Well, I guess if we’re doing this together…_ “The hearth isn’t lit, Your- _Dimitri,”_ he corrected himself hastily, remembering the man’s threat. “It’s a little chilly in here. I’m accustomed to a warmer climate, you see, and-“

“The shirt can stay, everything else goes, including the earring. I want you stripped back.”

_He’s stripped back. If he could cede control-_

But Claude’s entire persona was based around ambiguity and scheming. To make himself so vulnerable, on another’s terms-

But Dimitri won’t continue if he isn’t committed. And he _really_ wants to continue.

The golden cape is unclipped, the overcoat discarded messily. He bends down in a moderate display of flexibility, unlacing and removing his boots. He doesn’t bother with orderliness, and is glad when Dimitri doesn’t insist upon it. Every nimble movement of his hands reveals more and more of himself, tanned flesh and subtle imperfections. Although he’s never shy in the sauna, he baths privately, very aware of how…ethnic he can look, with all of the Fodlan fineries stripped away. Just another boy from Almyra, although in his home country…he’d never fit in.

He takes greater care with the earring, unhooking it carefully. It’s the one thing he keeps from Almyra, as much a fashion statement as it is a tether to where he comes from. Dimitri holds out a hand for it, and handing it over…feels like handing over the last piece of armour he keeps constructed around himself.

The prince places it gently on the immaculate desk, eyes appraising, but not overly appreciative. He’s seeing Claude vulnerable, entirely himself, for the first time. There’s no lust, although Claude can see the faint stirrings, in the way he shifts in his seat. “Thank you,” the prince says. “Now the pants. You can move closer, if you don’t want me to stare.”

“We’re about to become a lot better acquainted,” Claude isn’t coquettish, and he isn’t about to play the part of the prude. He’d wanted this, and everything it entailed. Dimitri staring at his bare ass had always been an inevitability, and feeling the rest of him pressed against his thighs…

Nudity can be impersonal. It can mean nothing, and he’ll prove it.

Without a moment to reconsider, Claude hitches his thumbs into his slacks (he didn’t like belts, so naturally had a tighter fit tailored) and yanks them down in one smooth movement. He hitches his underwear as he does so, baring his entirety to the prince, who, to his benefit, only gives one, _long_ blink, before nodding his head in approval.

Dimitri crooks a finger at him. “Come, then. We don’t want you catching a chill.”

Claude kicks away his trousers and undergarments, the absence of their restriction noticeable. He can feel his skin immediately breaking out in goose pimples, and _Gods_ , he hopes his balls don’t-

Perhaps with hurriedness a little more pronounced than he would have liked, Claude walked to Dimitri. He was barely within arm’s reach when the prince grasped his arms, pulling him firmly, but not harshly, to stand between his parted knees. Claude’s lack of clothes is glaring between them, and he feels himself, unwittingly, blushing.

“Tell me if you’re too uncomfortable,” Dimitri requests. “But be aware that this isn’t meant to be a pleasant experience. I will hurt you, and you’ll have to tell me if you can’t handle it.”

“I won’t plead, Dimitri. Give me some credit.” Claude is a little offended at the presumption.

“You will,” Dimitri retorted, stubbornly. “And you’ll need to tell me if it’s too much.”

Understanding what he was getting at, _why can’t the prince just say when he means,_ Claude offers “Chamomile.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“It’s what I’ll say, if I want you to stop. It’s not a word likely to enter our conversation otherwise.”

“Chamomile. How apt. You might be applying it to your bottom once I’m through with you.”

Claude flushes crimson. “It’s one of my favourite teas, you arse.”

_“Your arse,_ actually. I’m about to make it as red as your face.”

“You know Dimitri…you really do make terrible jokes.” Claude deadpanned.

“Perhaps so. Are you ready?”

Claude nodded.

“Verbally.”

“Yes, Dimitri. I’m ready.”

Dimitri smirks again, before his face returns to his stern expression. It’s such a fleeting change, that Claude could have blinked and missed it. He doesn’t get a chance to comment, as the prince wasted no time in guiding him over his knees. Since their height difference isn’t that considerable, he has to brace himself on the cold floorboards. It takes a few moments, before Dimitri has him positioned the way he wants, adjusting Claude, and hitching his knee a couple of times. There’s no remark on his appearance, or uncomfortable moment regarding the current situation of Claude’s nether regions. For all intents and purposes, it’s as if Dimitri is merely spanking a real child, and not a man. Only…the dynamic is certainly more mature, outside of the practical side of things. “I’ll acclimatise you before I give you the full brunt of your punishment,” Dimitri says, once he’s satisfied with their position “A warm up, so to speak.”

All of the anticipation, the intrigue...Claude could nearly shout for joy as it finally amounts to something. The concessions to his pride had been well worth it, to achieve his ultimate ~~fantasy~~ goal. “Sure thing, Dimitri. But don’t make it _too_ long, we still have that lecture to attend later.”

Dimitri hums, in response, and raises his hands. Claude keeps himself steady, and waits with bated breath, for the first strike-

The sound of two hands rubbing together is enough to make him roll his eyes. “I’m not _that_ delicate, Dimitri.”

“You said you were sensitive to the cold,” Dimitri is unapologetic, and even _blows_ into his cupped palms. “I may be strict, Claude, but I’m not inconsiderate.”

“You’re practically coddling-“ Claude is cut off by the sudden sensation of his ass being swatted, _hard,_ enough to make his eyes water. He gasps. “ _Okay,”_ he concedes, “I’m listening.”

“Good,” Dimitri sounds smugly satisfied. “I want your undivided attention.”

Forget about Dimitri’s _hands_ being cold, Claude wouldn’t have even felt it, what with how harshly he’d been struck-

He gasps again, when he feels Dimitri’s broad palm cup one of his cheeks gently. He can feel the callouses, every crevice between his fingers, the lines of his hand-

He nearly whines when Dimitri pulls away, missing the _okay,_ warmth. He taps Claude’s behind softly, humming again at the bounce his ministrations gain. Claude feels embarrassed again, but in a kind of… _nice_ way. His body is being treated with respect, and Dimitri is obviously _testing._

“I won’t touch your hole, Claude. I would never defile you in such a fashion.”

_Hole._ Not anus, _hole._ Claude is beginning to feel something hot in his naval, and if Dimitri keeps on talking like _that-_

Where had that earnest prince gone? He hadn’t even sounded abashed speaking so obscenely. Claude is startled to find he quite likes this new side of Dimitri.

“I’m going to start now, remember the word we agreed upon.”

Claude doesn’t respond verbally. He merely nods. It’s enough this time, because when he turns his head slightly, he can see Dimitri raise an arm, and-

_Fuck._ Claude has to bite his tongue, to prevent himself from cussing aloud. He doesn’t want to disgrace himself so early into the spanking. Not only was Dimitri impressively fast, but his broad shoulders and toned arms boasted a formidable strength. He was beginning to understand why the man had trouble yielding delicate objects without breaking them. _If this is him ‘warming me up’, I dread what comes after._

But another part of Claude enjoys the shock of pain, and he finds himself wiggling his ass in invitation, without much thought.

Dimitri is kind enough not to mention it. Maybe he’s too busy, aiming another-

**_Ouch._ **

Claude can’t think much else, as the prince reigns a flurry of smacks down onto his backside. Soon enough his enticing wiggling turns into an instinctive tensing, before turning into outright _squirming._ Dimitri ends up using his other arm to keep Claude still, and discomfort becomes borderline _intolerable-_

When he stops abruptly, Claude breathes out a sigh of relief for the reprieve. He hisses when the prince runs his hand over the stinging mounds, patting one of them gently in consolation. “Very good, Claude. I’m impressed with your pain tolerance. Many people would have cried out by now.”

Claude should feel angry at the condescension, but instead he’s merely…proud. He _melts_ at Dimitri’s praise, arching into his touch like a feline in search of petting.

“I’m going to give you eight more smacks, and they’re going to be painful.”

Before the spanking had started, Claude would have scoffed at a measly eight swats, but after receiving at least ten already, in Dimitri’s ‘warm-up’ phase, he knew what the prince could do with that amount. “Why eight?” He was curious. Dimitri wouldn’t have picked that number without reason. Eight. Eight as in-

“Eight for each of your Golden Deer classmates, who you have troubled and implicated in your mischief. I understand that you wanted my attention, but pulling juvenile practical jokes is no way to go about it. Next time you want a spanking, ask nicely, and we can arrange a time.”

_Again._ The idea of a repeat hadn’t yet occurred to Claude, and he was thrilled with the notion, even as he dreaded the coming onslaught of strikes. “Kind of takes the fun out of it,” he managed to say, cheekily. “I like seeing you strict, Dima. It’s fun.”

“I think these next swats will be a great deterrent for such misbehaviour.”

“Hmm, sure. Just don’t say their names, or anything like that. Kind of ruins the whole atmosphere.” Claude liked the bubble they were in, just the two of them. It was cathartic.

“Noted.” Dimitri gave his backside one last stroke, before he was pressing Claude down firmly. Evidently, he was confident that the other male would be ‘bucking up’, pun fully intended. “Try not to scream. This would be…difficult to explain.”

“I won’t. Trust me, I can handle this.” Claude manages to inhale and exhale a steeling breath, in the time it takes Dimitri to raise his arm again, and he presses his lips firmly together-

It isn’t a sharp stinging sensation he feels. It’s a _searing scorch,_ and the sound resounds even louder in the room, much louder than the other swats. Claude doesn’t have time to worry over the sound, when the next two strikes come-

He whimpers, when it finds his upper thighs. That section had already been touched upon, but not with such ferocity. Whereas some would need to apply continuous strikes to achieve such an effect, Dimitri’s sheer strength could do so with far less time.

When he’s shifted suddenly, his backside pushed upwards, he struggles to remain on Dimitri’s lap. The man hadn’t warned him-

“ _Ow,”_ he whimpers, unintended, when Dimitri’s palm meets the tender underside of his ass, directly where he’ll likely be sitting, that afternoon-

He pays extra attention to that spot, deeming it necessary of three swats, before returning Claude to his previous position, and refocusing his attention on the centre of his backside. There’s only two more to go, and Claude-

“I can’t,” he blurts this out, in a rather pathetic fashion, and is horrified to find his eyes have started watering at some point. He’s bitten through the flesh of his lower lip, and his fists are clenched, as he uses all of his effort not to try and reach back to protect himself. _Why_ had he wanted this? Him and his idiotic schemes! “Just…just skip the last two. I get it, okay? I get it.”

But Dimitri had promised to be strict, and unyielding. Claude had even goaded him into it, like the moron he was. “You’ve done very well, Claude, and I know you’ll regret not finishing your punishment if I allow lenience.” Claude kicked his legs out in frustration at the bothersome (but predicted) answer, and Dimitri _growled._ “ **Enough.** I can keep you here all day, throwing a tantrum like a little boy, or we can finish your punishment with your dignity intact.”

“You aren’t going to lecture me?” Claude snapped, frustrated with his own self-sabotage. “Ask me what I did wrong?”

“You _know_ what you’ve done wrong,” Dimitri said, incredulously. “You’re a schemer. Tactical. You knew _exactly_ what you were getting into, and that’s why we’re going to finish this, **now.** ”

Claude knows he can use their ‘safe-word’. The option is available, and his mouth even forms around a ‘C’, but-

_He’s right. If I chicken out now, I’ll regret it. I **wanted** this. The brunt of Dimitri’s strength. I won’t prove myself weak-willed._

Claude had made strategic retreats many times in the past, but to retreat now wouldn’t be an act of insight, it would be an act of cowardice. The momentary relief at having his backside spared would quickly be overwhelmed by a sense of disappointment at a failed mission.

So Claude grits his teeth, and closes his eyes. He takes a steadying breath, and lets it out in a big huff. “Fine. But be done with it quickly. I feel like you’re applying a blazing flame directly to my ass.”

“Delightful. That means I’m doing this correctly.”

“Just get to it, _Your Princliness.”_ The teasing nickname has barely left his lips, when he feels a sense of impending doom. Dimitri has proven he doesn’t make idle threats, and Claude had already been struggling to accept the last two swats, and an additional third for his slip-up…it was just _daunting-_

SMACK

Claude’s had trouble keeping his mouth shut at the best of times (although he’s always careful never to reveal anything important or incriminating about himself) but now, the cry is instinctive. It’s ripped out in raw emotion, as Claude tries and fails to distract himself from the searing pain of his ass. He has to bite into his own fist, to muffle it. He’d die of humiliation, if someone burst onto this scene-

Worries about exposure leave his mind entirely, when Dimitri lands, what Claude assumes, to be the second-last strike. He’d disobeyed the prince’s request about formalities, and now-

_One more,_ he manages to think, using every inch of his will-power to prevent himself from fighting Dimitri, to forcing himself upwards-

But the penalty he’s incurred does not come. Instead, he feels the tips of Dimitri’s fingers rub soft circles over his, _presumedly_ , crimson flesh, and he opens his eyes in surprise.

The action might have been soothing, if Claude’s entire ass wasn’t **_burning._** Any contact right now was intolerable, and Claude was probably going to have to take one of his _own_ stomach-upset potions to get out of the afternoon’s lecture, because there was _no way in hell_ he was sitting on his ass-

“You’re going to bruise,” Dimitri doesn’t sound regretful at all, but Claude can’t really resent him for it. He’d asked for this, after all. Practically begged for it, even. “But it will heal quite nicely within a matter of days. Quicker, with the aid of some healing magic.”

“Uh, no,” Claude denied, immediately. “It’s bad enough people probably heard me crying in here…I’m not letting anyone know you _actually_ spanked me.”

“I don’t think anybody heard us-“

“Dimitri, did you hear how loud your hand was coming down on my ass? I’m surprised someone hasn’t broken in here to recover a _corpse_ -“

“Class must have commenced some time ago. Furthermore, we are on the second floor. The only person likely to have overheard your punishment would have been Lady Rhea’s boy-servant-“

“Cyril.”

“Cyril, if he was doing any cleaning in the halls. If I feared for your reputation, I wouldn’t have gone this far, Claude. Do you think me some senseless beast?”

Claude blinked at this, and craned his neck to stare at Dimitri quizzically. What an odd thing to say, especially after Claude had already demonstrated such faith in the man. “I just allowed you to spank me, Dimitri. I let you put me in a vulnerable position. Would I have allowed that if I didn’t trust you?”

Dimitri averted his eyes from Claude’s gaze, appearing entirely abashed at his own comment. “I apologise for taking that tone with you, Claude. I’m…I’m honoured that you trusted me enough to do this.”

“Yeah, well…” Dimitri’s sudden transition into such formality was a little overwhelming, for Claude. Here he was, still bent over the man’s knee, _bare-assed,_ and the prince was talking about _honour._ “Thanks for indulging me, even though I don’t think I’ll ever be able to sit down again…”

“I’m going to help you up now.”

“Wow. Not even a hint of remorse for the state of my ass.” Claude teased, but dutifully allowed Dimitri to help him stand. His legs were a little wobbly, and he had to reach out a hand to steady himself, bracing it on Dimitri’s shoulder. The prince stares at him silently for a long moment, and Claude fancies himself _quite_ handsome like this, hair in disarray-

But then Dimitri is presenting him with a neatly folded handkerchief, and saying, politely, “For your face.”

_Oh._

Claude wipes tear-tracks from his cheeks, and at the wetness still under his eyes. He realises how he must _really_ look, red-eyed and sniffly, like some stupid _toddler-_

“Your lip is bleeding.” Dimitri observed, with a frown.

Claude patted the cloth over his lower lip, mopping up the small puddle of blood that had pooled in a small cut. “It’s only small. It’ll heal in no time. Faster than my ass, I’d wager.” Speaking of his ass, the cool air was _heavenly,_ and the idea of covering it with anything constricting seemed _torturous,_ but-

_There’s only so long His Highness can politely avoid looking at my cock._

So Claude seeks out his discarded underwear, pulling it up lean legs to settle around his waist. The pants are far less bearable, and he _hisses,_ his hands going back to rub some of the sting away.

Dimitri remains where he is, observing Claude with interest, and only speaking up when the brunette leans down to put his boots back on. He’s smirking, as he teases, “Wouldn’t that be easier, sitting on the bed?”

Claude pauses, sending him a miffed smile. “Are you _teasing_ me, Dimitri?” Interesting. He had seen a whole new side of Dimitri today. So much of this interaction could be dissected later, preferably laying sideways on his bed, with a herbal salve on his burning ass. “That’s just downright _mean.”_

“I could be meaner.” Dimitri said. “As you well know.”

_Ah, the penalty swat. I guess I should be grateful he showed me mercy…_

“I kind of like mean Dimitri,” Claude laces his boots deftly, and picks up his coat. He wishes he’d taken the time to fold it properly, the fabric creases so easily, it will be obvious he’s in a state of disarray… “He seems a bit more relaxed, more so than normal Dimitri.” He weighs his words carefully, as he smooths down his golden shirt. “I suppose…this could be seen as an outlet for you as well?”

Naturally, Dimitri coloured, until his face was around the same shade as Claude’s backside. “I…I-“

“You don’t need to be ashamed.” The return of their normal dynamic is like a slap in the face to Claude, the power balance they’d been enjoying equalling out once more. He’s back to being his scheming, cheerful self, and Dimitri is as earnest and moral as ever, thoughtful and idealistic. Was it a mask being applied for the prince? Or had he merely been an adept actor?

_Who is the real Dimitri? The boy who gets flustered at compliments, or the authoritative man who just held me down, spanked me, and **enjoyed** it?_

Perhaps they were two sides of the same Dimitri. Either way, it practically _begged_ for further investigation, and Claude’s intrigue was _hunger_ now, because-

“You’ll be sitting next to me at Lady Rhea’s seminar,” Dimitri tells him, unwaveringly, even as his face remains heated. “It’s obvious I need to keep a close eye on you.”

“About that seminar-“

“What did I tell you in the library last night?”

Claude didn’t have to think too hard. He had a good memory, especially when it came to his conversations with Dimitri. “You said that if I caused any mayhem, I’d be sitting in the lecture with a-“ he trailed off, with a wince. “Dimitri, you can’t imagine how much my ass hurts right now-“

“I said you’d be sitting in the lecture on a sore bottom,” Dimitri finished Claude’s halted sentence. “And I meant it. I don’t go back on my word, Claude. You’ll sit by me, and if you don’t want to arouse suspicion…you won’t squirm too much. Unless you _want_ to admit I spanked you like a naughty little boy.”

“Me sitting with you will arouse suspicion anyhow. Your house will probably think I’m blackmailing you, or something equally nefarious.” Claude was only being reasonable. It wasn’t customary for students to sit away from their house during classes. There was no real rule about it, it just wasn’t done. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Dimitri, but your followers are rather protective of you.”

“They aren’t my followers. I consider them my friends.” Dimitri objected, immediately. “And they will respect my decision if I tell them it’s my choice.”

_He’s so naïve._ Claude had no doubt that the blue lions considered Dimitri their friend, but first and foremost, he was their liege. Those hailing from the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus (and those dedicated to protecting it, in the case of Dedue) were stiff about protocol. It would take a lot more time and effort for Dimitri to break down the barriers that came with his elevated status.

_But...at least he’s trying._ ”I don’t think I can handle Dedue’s patented death glares today, Dimitri.”

“Oh. I see.” The prince sounded dejected. “Well, if you find my company unpleasant in this capacity, I cannot force you. I just thought there was no reason not to sit together…not after what we’ve just done.”

The prince sounds so downtrodden by the rejection, that Claude immediately feels a surge of guilt. He knows that Lorenz will be appalled by his conduct (and likely interpret it as snubbery, and write his father about Claude abandoning his house) and that it will prompt suspicion, and questioning from Hilda later, but- “Fine. But only on the condition that I get a cushion.”

Dimitri immediately brightens up at Claude’s acquiescence, and he’s almost amazed at how quickly the prince’s mood can change, when he isn’t putting on any royal airs. Perhaps this is some version of aftercare, and Dimitri needs to feel reassured by company after he’s let so much of his guard down. Maybe he just wants Claude close, Claude can’t quite tell yet…

But if it’s the former, then he certainly owes the prince. He’d been so thoughtful whilst indulging Claude, and had been delicate with him afterwards, it only made sense he return the favour. And it wasn’t like Claude _didn’t want_ to sit beside him. In fact, the idea to him was pleasant. His more logical side merely objected.

“Wouldn’t that be a tad obvious?” Dimitri pointed out. “You being the only person with a cushion would certainly raise some eyebrows.”

“Oh how _scandalous,”_ Claude said, in a falsetto. “A noble being particular about their comfort! What a shocker!”

“You aren’t the kind of noble to be so fussy, Claude.”

Dimitri was right, of course, but Claude didn’t relish the idea of sitting on his burning backside for so long without any relief.

“How about I visit the infirmary for a cooling salve? I’m sure Professor Manuela won’t hesitate to part with some. It isn’t an uncommon concoction, she should be well-stocked.”

“Wouldn’t that defeat the purpose of punishing me?”

“Not at all. The salve will lessen the sting, but it will still be very much present. It will merely make sitting through the lecture slightly more bearable.”

Claude would take the offer over nothing. It was remarkably sweet of Dimitri to do this for him, and before he can stop himself- “Will you apply it for me?” It’s an eager blurt, and his impulsivity is rewarded by Dimitri cracking another grin.

“It would be my pleasure.”

Claude isn’t sure where this dynamic is going, and that contradicts his nature as a schemer, but he’s always been curious, and this thing with Dimitri…it’s fresh and fun. He wants to continue, even if it amounts to nothing in the end. Even if he ends up hurting himself. “Thank you…Your Highness.”

“Dimitri.”

“Dimitri, then.”

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> I hope the characters weren’t too OOC in this. I tried to maintain their canon personalities as much as possible whilst I had my fun with them 😉 
> 
> I originally planned for this to be a little darker, but it ended up being more tame. Claude’s fascination with Dimitri punishing him wasn’t inherently sexual (although it could become so) although a lot of aspects of their ‘scene’ ended up going in that direction, and there was an unacknowledged attraction between the pair. (Did anyone catch my not-so-subtle The Witcher reference? 😊) 
> 
> At first I planned to write more of this, but I’m kind of in and out of the fandom now. If you’re reading, don’t hesitate to tell me what you think. No pressure to do so though. Have a nice day/night! 
> 
> (Title taken from ‘Are You Satisfied?’ by MARINA)


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